Deadly Wolves 'Round Town Tonight
by littlelindentree
Summary: This is a sequel to my fic "Hold On, Hold On" and as such it takes place after "Jumping the Gun", incorporating some elements from later episodes of S2. The title and lyrics come from another Neko Case song, "Star Witness."


_Hey, pretty baby, get high with me;  
we can go to my sister's if we say we'll watch the baby.  
The look on your face yanks my neck on the chain,  
and I would do anything  
to see you again._

Tim had no idea what he was doing.

He knew he was stretched out in his favourite chair, beer in hand, and the TV was tuned to ESPN. What he was less certain of was why the coach's daughter was with him, sitting on his couch, idly playing with her hair and gazing at the TV. It had been his idea, but he wasn't sure where it had come from.

"You gonna get in a lot of trouble for skipping school?" he asked.

"I don't care," Julie shrugged, not looking away from the TV.

Tim hazarded a sidelong glance at her profile. She seemed mostly to be ignoring him.

"You want something to eat? There's not much here, but we could..."

"No thanks," Julie replied. "Everywhere we could go would just be full of people, anyway."

"We have Hot Pockets," Tim offered. He watched as Julie's mouth curved gently upward in a smile, and she turned to him.

"What's with you?" she asked, one dark eyebrow raised in a question, her brown eyes inquisitive.

"Nothing," he said, turning back to the TV and sipping his beer.

"No, something's obviously up. Why are you offering me food and drinks and letting me lie around on your couch? It's weird."

"It is?"

"Well, yeah. I mean, I don't think either of us really relishes the thought of talking about it, but it should be said – we had sex. And now you're offering me Hot Pockets."

Tim began studiously peeling the label off his beer, considering this. Yes, it was weird. No, he didn't typically hook up with a girl and then skip class to watch Sports Center and eat Hot Pockets with her. He was a little confused himself.

"Seriously – what's with you?"

"I guess I just feel bad," he replied, not meeting her eyes.

"Ah, so these are pity pockets we're talking about. Thanks, but no thanks."

"Not pity," he frowned. "It's just... I took advantage, and I guess I never really thought of myself as that guy."

"Tim?"

"Yeah?"

"If you were that guy, I wouldn't be here."

He glanced up to find her looking back at the TV.

"I'm not _that _pathetic," she said, raising her eyebrows.

***

The next day, Tim found Julie waiting by his truck at lunch, absently scuffing her sneaker against his tire. The day after that, she was sitting _in_ his truck when he came out of practice. The day after that, she showed up on his doorstep in the early evening with two cheeseburgers, two fries, and two chocolate milkshakes from Alamo Freeze.

Julie began telling her parents that she was going to her friend Lois's. Tim knew this because she would laugh about it later. He would try not to think about what Coach's face would look like if he ever found out what was really going on; what had already gone on in his own house.

It was very innocent, which was unusual for Tim. She'd come over and do her homework while he watched TV. Billy would arrive home with a bucket of fried chicken or a pizza and stand in the doorway, looking at them strangely, before wordlessly joining them in front of the TV.

Julie didn't seem to expect entertainment, just company. Tim assumed she enjoyed herself, although it was hard to tell with Julie. She never showed much excitement about anything. Whatever she was feeling, she kept coming back.

She began helping him with his homework when one night he complained about his latest chemistry test. She took a great deal of interest in his schoolwork after that, and tutored him in every class he was taking, although she always stopped short of doing any of his assignments for him, a raised eyebrow (a little too like her mother's) the only response he received when he teasingly asked her to do an essay for him.

They didn't talk about anything personal – not Matt or Lyla or Jason or Tyra or her family or his. Instead, they talked about football and food and school and the weather and whatever crap happened to be on TV.

They never, ever talked about what had happened between them that night after the party.

The two of them formed a private bubble that only Billy was privy to, and which existed only within the confines of Tim's house. At school, they were as invisible to one another as they had been before Tim came to stay at the Taylors', each negotiating the waters of Dillon High as though the other's social sphere did not exist. Tim was glad Billy never asked him what was going on, because Tim wouldn't have known what to call it. Whatever it was didn't have a name, and Tim kind of liked it that way.

One day Julie asked him what he wanted to do after high school, and Tim shrugged. He used to know the answer to that question. He had loved explaining his and Jay's plan to people in the grandiose, poetic manner he could only achieve while drunk, relishing the way people fondly rolled their eyes at him, disbelieving and indulgent. They didn't know. They didn't know the dream was absolutely true, was really going to happen, was definitely what life had planned for him and Jason and Lyla. Texas forever. The three of them together forever.

Looking at Julie Taylor across the breakfast bar, Julie who he _hadn't _known since kindergarten, Julie who didn't quite fit into Dillon's moulds, sarcastic Julie who raised eyebrows with her smart remarks, Tim still felt angry that every one of those non-believers who had rolled their eyes at him had been proven absolutely right.

"I'm going to drink beer with my brother and probably pump your gas, little Taylor," he said, pouring milk onto his cereal.

Expressionless, Julie reached over and stole a dry purple Froot Loop that had escaped onto the counter.

"Whatever makes you happy," she said, crunching the cereal.

Disappointed in her lack of disappointment, Tim frowned.

"Aren't you supposed to tell me that I'm not meeting my potential, that if I sobered up and applied myself, I could play college ball?"

"Hm," Julie replied, stealing another fruit-flavoured O, "You must be pretty sick of people trying to save you from yourself by now. You're not stupid. You know you could do that if you wanted to. Anyway, do I look like my mom to you? I hope not."

She hopped off the bar stool and, grabbing her backpack, headed for the door.

"See you later," she called over her shoulder, her face obscured by the sudden rush of bright afternoon sunlight in the doorway.

Tim stared at the closed door for a few minutes after she left, his cereal growing soggy.

He knew then that Dillon was too small to contain Julie, and that once she got out, she would never come back.

***

"It's been two hours and I haven't had a single nibble," Julie complained, blowing her bangs out of her eyes.

"That's why it's called fishing and not catching," Tim quipped, hearing his father's voice snapping the same words at him and Billy, many years ago.

It was Saturday evening, and Tim and Julie were twenty miles outside of Dillon, at the lake, seated in opposite ends of Mr. Street's boat, which Tim had liberated from their boathouse. Tim had picked Julie up earlier in the afternoon about a block from her house, where he found her standing on the street corner beneath the shade of a mesquite tree. Coach and Mrs. Taylor thought she was having a girls' night with Tyra.

Pulling another beer out of the case by his feet, Tim wondered how long it would be before Julie slipped up and got caught in a lie.

"Will you still be okay to drive?" Julie asked mildly.

"Sure," Tim replied, glancing across the boat at her. Darkness had begun to fall, and at that exact moment, a firefly lit itself briefly and droned by Julie's head. Her long hair was parted on the side, and she had pulled it away from her face with a neat braid that ran along her forehead before disappearing into her long, straight ponytail of blond hair. It was pretty, and Tim found his fingers itching to reach out and run along the tidy, delicate braid. He frowned.

"You worried?" he asked, trying to pick up the thread of their conversation.

"About dying in a tragic teenage drinking and driving accident? Of course not."

Tim smiled, casting his line out again. "I knew it."

"Knew what?"

"You just want an excuse to drive my truck."

"Um, no. I don't think I'm a truck kind of girl."

"You don't have to say anything," Tim teased, reaching for yet another beer. "You can drive us back. Really. It's okay with me. Next time you can just ask."

"Fine," Julie countered, glancing at the empty beer bottles clanking against one another in the bottom of the boat. "But that means we're listening to my radio station."

Two hours later, the only thing caught between the two of them was one pathetically small sunfish angled into the boat by a beaming Julie. After throwing the fish back, Tim had steered the boat back to the dock in a huff, and was now slouched low in the passenger seat of his truck while Julie drove and hummed along to the radio. Once back in Dillon, Julie pulled into the parking lot of the Alamo Freeze.

"You're obviously depressed over this fishing situation," she observed. "We're going to need something to eat."

Tim merely grunted in response, still sulking.

Julie hopped out of the truck, and from behind his aviators he watched her go, his eyes running down her petite dancer's body. His observation was interrupted, however, by the sight of Lyla walking up the sidewalk towards the restaurant, hand-in-hand with this Christian radio guy he'd heard she was dating. On top of not catching a thing at the lake, he now had weird thoughts about Julie Taylor and Lyla's new boyfriend to contend with.

Appraising the guy as the pair entered the restaurant, Tim snorted. He wasn't even a football player.

Julie emerged a few minutes later, a large paper bag of food and two drinks in her arms. Wordlessly, she got into the truck and shoved the food towards Tim's slumped form. Starting the truck abruptly, she peeled out of the lot, her mouth set in a grim line.

"Easy," Tim said, frowning and sitting up. "What's wrong?"

Julie's only response was to grumble a sound of inarticulate frustration.

"Oh," Tim replied. "You saw Saracen?"

"_Yes_," Julie hissed, "And it's really irritating that it's that obvious."

"Seems to be the only thing that gets you worked up these days," he observed.

"Thanks, that's... really depressing."

"Sorry," Tim shrugged.

"It's not your fault. I'm the loser who's still hung up on the guy she dumped."

"You're not a loser," Tim smiled. "That's just how it goes, is all."

"Yeah," she grumbled. "Is Lyla dating someone new? I've never seen him around before."

"Guess so," Tim replied. "He's some guy on that Christian radio station."

"Is he the one on that call-in advice show?"

"Yeah," he sighed.

"Oh man," Julie laughed. "Tyra and I used to listen to it all the time at her place and make fun of it. One time we got Mindy to crank call them. It was so juvenile, but I thought I was going to wet myself."

Tim glanced over at Julie, who laughed harder.

"I know it's mean, but come on," she said, her voice rising to a ditzy-sounding falsetto, "'My boyfriend and I have both pledged to save ourselves for marriage, but he says blowjobs don't count. Is that true?'" She dissolved into another peal of laughter, turning the truck onto Tim's street.

"Yeah, I don't really get it myself," Tim admitted, smiling.

Julie parked the truck in Tim's driveway and turned to look at him. "Sorry, I shouldn't bring Lyla up. I know it's a sore spot."

"You do?" he asked, getting out of the truck and walking towards the front door.

"Well, yeah," Julie said, following him into the house. "I kinda figured by the way you get all scowly every time she's around or when anyone mentions her. Besides, everyone in Dillon knows what happened, so..."

"Yeah," he frowned, putting their food down on the coffee table and turning the TV on.

"Sorry," Julie said again. "We don't have to talk about it."

"It's okay," he shrugged, settling into his chair. "I'm over it."

He felt Julie's eyes on him and knew she wanted to disagree, but eventually she looked away.

"So," he said, "what should it be tonight?_ Die Hard _or _Happy Gilmore_?"

"_Happy Gilmore_," Julie said. "We've watched _Die Hard_ like twelve times. Seriously. It's becoming excessive."

Hours later, the credits rolled on an old episode of_ Saturday Night Live_, and Tim stretched tiredly before turning to get Julie's opinion on whether Christopher Walken was a comedic genius or just a weirdo. When he didn't get a response to his question, he got up and stood next to the couch, looking down at her sprawled form.

"Jules?" he asked. She was fast asleep.

Tim stared at her for a moment before glancing worriedly around the room as though Coach was about to pop out from one of the bedrooms.

The way Julie sighed and snuggled deeper into sleep just then brought Tim's mind unwillingly back to the night they slept together, when Tim woke up with the sunrise to find Julie cuddled up against him.

He had lain awake for nearly twenty minutes staring at her bedroom ceiling, his pounding head reeling through the previous night's events and the options now before him. He could stay and endure her regret and disgust and shame, or he could get the hell out and hope they both chose to pretend it had never happened. Tim eventually went with the second option, and had managed to gather his scattered clothing and get dressed when he saw it.

There on the sheets, revealed by the covers he had thrown aside in his haste to escape and incredibly ugly next to Julie's naked thigh, was a large spot of dried blood.

Tim stood there staring at it for what felt like hours, his throat tightening and his head feeling hot.

He had done that. He had made her bleed.

The blood didn't make him any more eager to stay; if anything it made him want to leap out the window. But it did make him rummage through the Taylors' medicine cabinet for a bottle of painkillers, and find a piece of notepaper to try to make amends for what had to be one of the stupidest blunders he'd ever made.

Watching Julie sleep again, this time fully clothed on his couch, her hands tucked under her chin, Tim wondered whether things which seemed like mistakes could sometimes turn out to be happy accidents.

He briefly debated waking her up and taking her home, but he knew she had told her parents she was sleeping at Tyra's, so she had likely planned to stay the night at his place. He smiled softly, wondering if they had any eggs, scrambled eggs being one of the few meals he could make from scratch.

Tim found a blanket which smelled relatively clean and spread it over Julie before gently removing her scuffed sneakers and turning off the TV.

He went into his bedroom and closed the door.

***

"It's just a party. You need to learn how to cut loose," Tim said.

"Given my track record with 'cutting loose'," Julie replied, sarcastic air quotes and all, "I'm going to give it a pass. But you should go."

Tim huffed out a frustrated sigh, turning his attention back to the foosball match currently underway. He'd been trying for five minutes to convince Julie to come out to Tyler Matheson's lake house on Saturday, where a party of legendary proportions was going to take place. He'd tried all his best coercive tactics, but nothing had worked.

"Come on," he said, attempting to shoot the little ball past Julie's nimble line of plastic defencemen. "If it's lame, we can always just leave."

"That's the problem," she replied, flicking her wrist and deflecting his attack. "This whole 'we' business. It'll be weird if we show up and leave together."

"Weird," he repeated, frowning down at the table, "Weird how?"

"It's weird because this is Dillon, and if we show up at a party together, people will think we're dating or something's going on, and I just can't really deal with all the questions and significant looks and the teachers gossiping and my mother eventually finding out."

Tim didn't reply, considering this. She was right, obviously; the two of them showing up at a party together would definitely get the rumour mill chugging. He didn't care what anyone thought of them, but Tim wasn't naive about the importance of town opinion, either.

"I don't know," Julie said, her soft voice interrupting his thoughts. "I mean, I don't care what people think, but it's just... I guess I like it private, you know? I don't want to have to explain this."

Tim looked up at the sudden tremble in her voice. Julie's hands had fallen away from the handles, and she was staring down at the table, her face hidden by the bright curtain of her hair. Tim's chest tightened with a rush of feelings he lacked the words to identify. He didn't want to have to explain "this" either. He didn't know what "this" was.

He knew he liked her, liked spending time with her. He liked her sarcastic comments and the sharp, mean edge to her, the way she gloated triumphantly when she beat him at MarioKart, the insightful little comments she made when they watched football, the way she wrinkled her nose at Billy's questionable taste in pizza toppings. He knew his mood lifted every time she banged on his front door.

Sometimes he felt like her older brother, protective and teasing. Sometimes he felt like her friend, comfortable with the long silences which punctuated their conversations. Sometimes he felt like her boyfriend, because neither of them was dating anyone else, and they spent an enormous amount of their free time together, and her rare, mega-watt smiles made his skin tingle and his stomach fall. Those times, he wanted very badly just to kiss her.

Mostly he felt more and more like he was simply _hers_, but without sex, Tim wasn't sure which box the two of them belonged in.

"It's okay," he said. "We don't have to go."

"You should go," Julie said, taking a deep breath and smiling suddenly. "People are going to start to wonder what's up if you miss too many parties."

Tim didn't know how to take that, and he stared back at her for so long that she grew uncomfortable, her smile fading.

"So, are we, uh," Tim began, clearing his throat and looking down at his hands. "Are we hiding this?"

"Hiding what?" she asked, her voice tense.

"I don't know," he shrugged, frowning. "Whatever this is."

"Well, what is this?" she pressed, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Look," Tim said, ignoring her question and running a hand through his hair, "Let's just go and have a good time, make some memories, not think too much about it. People are gonna talk, let 'em talk. Keep 'em guessing."

Julie looked up at him, hesitating. Tim could tell he was about to win her over.

"We can play quarters," he offered.

"Ugh, fine. We can go to the stupid party," she acquiesced.

"Yes!" Tim crowed, raising his arms over his head. "You will not be sorry, Taylor."

"No, but you will be," Julie said, seizing her opportunity and quickly shooting the little ball across the table and into Tim's unguarded net.

He deflated instantly, staring at Julie in shocked dismay.

"Best two out of three," he said.

***

Coach Taylor had once told Tim that his wife was always right, and Tim wondered if perhaps Julie had inherited her mother's uncanny gift, and if he ought to have listened to her.

Just about everyone at Dillon High was at the party. From the minute Tim parked on the lawn and they got out of the truck, arguing over whether turducken was awesome or horrible, people couldn't seem to quit staring at the two of them.

Tim didn't understand it, really; they weren't even standing together or anything. Julie had wandered over to chat with some girl from her civics class, and Tim was hanging back with a couple guys from the team. Tim had never taken much notice of the high school drama going on around him, but even he couldn't miss the looks shot at Julie's back as she walked across the expansive lawn to see her friend.

"So, you and the coach's daughter, huh?" came a voice beside him. It was one of the second string Panthers whose name Tim could never remember.

"Sorry?" Tim asked, sipping his beer and surveying the party with careful disinterest.

He spotted Landry and Saracen standing with Tyra on the other side of the yard, and the scowl he was getting from Tyra was only matched by the glower Saracen was aiming at Julie, which he slowly turned and directed at Tim.

Tim sighed. It was starting to get too complicated to just relax and have some good times in Dillon. Julie had been absolutely right; they should have arrived separately and completely ignored each other. Or not gone to the party at all and spent another night playing MarioKart at his house.

"I mean, that's cool if you don't want to kiss and tell..."

"What?" Tim snapped, turning to glare at the player still talking next to him.

"We're all just wondering if this means that Taylor's working her way through the team," the mouthy player replied, elbowing another Panther, both of them guffawing.

Frowning, Tim tipped his head back and finished the rest of his beer before tossing the bottle into the grass, hauling his fist back, and punching the player square in the teeth.

In the fight that followed, the only thing Tim was aware of was Julie, who eventually made it across the lawn and through the crowd of gawkers, and silently hauled Tim off the other player. "_Please_," she said quietly, urgently, as she dragged him away from the fight and towards his truck.

Great. Now he wasn't even going to get the chance to beat her at quarters.

***

"Well," Julie said, after a long period of complete silence during which Tim drove and she stared pensively out the window, "if people weren't talking about us before, they sure are now."

"Hmph," Tim replied, touching his cheekbone, where a raw bruise was forming.

"That was really idiotic," Julie said, shaking her head angrily. "Couldn't you have just told him off and walked away?"

"He was talking smack about you," he replied.

"Right, because _you've_ never done that before."

"Not really," he sighed, wiping some of the blood from his nose off on his jacket.

"And do you typically punch out every Panther who trash talks a girl in front of you?"

"No, but you're not just a girl."

"Oh, really? Then what am I?"

"You're my girl," he mumbled.

He felt Julie staring at him across the truck, her mouth agape. His cheeks burned, and not from the pummeling they'd so recently received.

"Pull over," she said softly, gesturing at the empty stretch of highway they were currently driving along. Not knowing what else to do, Tim pulled the truck out onto a service road and turned the engine off.

They sat silently in the truck for several minutes, neither of them knowing what to say.

"Why did you say that?" Julie asked, her voice soft.

"I don't know," he muttered, looking out at the dark night, anywhere but at her.

"You don't know," she repeated. "It just came out? It didn't mean anything?"

"No," he replied, scowling. "I just... We're friends, right? That's what friends do."

"I guess," she said. "Are we friends, though? Is that what this is?"

"I don't know," he said again, still avoiding her gaze.

"Maybe we just need to test it out," Julie said contemplatively, staring hard out the windshield. Tim glanced over at her. "See what fits."

"Huh?"

Julie turned back and looked at him, just stared hard for several beats, and then she scooted across the cab and kissed him.

Tim stared at her through half-lidded eyes as they tentatively kissed, noticing the tiny freckles scattered across her eyelids. Kissing her while sober was a different thing altogether from kissing her while drunk. Tim wondered if it felt the same for her. She sighed, her breath brushing across his face. Leaning in, he closed his eyes and tangled his hands in her long hair.

Sliding a hand down to her waist to pull her closer, Tim let all the thoughts and feelings about Julie he'd been working hard to repress come flooding in, and suddenly he was nearly dizzy with lust.

"Too many clothes," she mumbled against his lips, pulling away long enough to shrug her jacket and her hoodie off, and to push his jacket down his arms. She struggled out of her jeans, kicking them away. He helped her, tossing their excess clothes into the passenger seat as Julie clambered into his lap, her back pressed against the steering wheel.

"Is this okay?" she breathed, her hands tugging impatiently on his belt buckle. "I don't want to screw it up like last time."

"Me neither," he replied, groping in his jacket for a condom. He barely had time to get it on before Julie was batting his hands away and guiding him inside her.

"_Fuck_," he groaned, despite himself, as he felt the full measure of all the sensations that had been dulled by alcohol last time. That, truth be told, had been dulled by alcohol _most_ of the time.

He cursed again under his breath when Julie hesitantly rolled her hips against his.

"Like this?" she asked, her voice trembling, her breath hot against his ear.

"Yeah," he choked, burying his face into her chest. He felt a laugh vibrate through her.

"Okay, good," she whispered, tangling her fingers in his hair. The feel of her nails against his scalp sent shivers down his spine, and he dug his fingers into the soft flesh of her hips, guiding her movements a little harder.

"Jules," he rumbled as she leaned in close and began to fuck him in earnest. He felt goose bumps break out all along her skin, and he glanced up at her flushed face.

"You like my voice?" he asked, watching her carefully. She nodded tightly, her eyes not leaving his.

"Jules," he muttered, holding her close so he could whisper against her neck. "I've wanted... You have no idea... Since that night, I didn't think I should-"

"Tim?" she gasped, yanking his hair suddenly to get his attention.

"Yeah?"

"Shut up," she said, grabbing one of his hands and pressing it down between them. Getting the hint, Tim pressed his thumb against her. She gasped, gripping the back of the driver's seat hard, then cried out, her whole body going rigid against his. Tim followed her right after, shuddering his release and gripping her hips so hard he was sure he must have left bruises, but he couldn't help himself.

"Sorry," he said, trying to catch his breath as he realised how hard he was holding her. "That was a little... quick."

"Do you always apologise after sex?" she asked, her voice light. "Just wondering, because that's the second time."

He grimaced.

Julie leaned forward and pressed a kiss to Tim's forehead. He frowned, taken aback at the gesture.

"What?" she asked, her own brow furrowing.

"That was... sweet," he said, not knowing what else to call the warm feeling her gesture had caused.

"Oh."

"Why did you start coming around my place?" he asked. He wasn't sure where that question came from, it just came out.

"Why did you look for me that day at school?" she countered, leaning back against the steering wheel. Tim didn't know what to say.

"You really want to know?" she asked, looking him square in the eye. Even in the dim light, her gaze was intense, and Tim almost wanted to look away. He nodded.

"I was lonely," she said, "and I thought maybe you were lonely, too."

Tim looked at her face, still flushed and hot, so open. Since when did girls tell him how they were feeling? Since when did anyone think he was interested? It felt strange to know he was trusted, and to think that maybe Julie was with him right now because she wanted to be, not because she was looking for a thrill to tell her friends about, or because she was running away from something and he was a convenient escape.

"I was," he said softly. "I am."

"You're lonely?" she asked, shifting a little to remind Tim how close they still were. "Even now?"

"Maybe not right now," he smiled. She smiled back and they stayed that way for a while before Julie grew uncomfortable and moved off of him, awkwardly pulling her jeans back on before leaning tentatively against him. Tim put an arm around her, pulling her close.

"What are we gonna do?" she sighed.

"I don't know," he replied.

"My parents won't be happy. Tyra will probably want to kill you. Matt's going to hate both of us. That will make things harder for you on the team... Are you sure you want to do this?"

Tim thought about it, imagined studying with her and distracting her, imagined going to her place for dinner and having Coach shake his hand, imagined going back to his place at lunch and letting one thing lead to another, falling asleep in the afternoon sun and waking up next to someone who would be happy to see him.

"Hey Jules," he said jostling her gently with his shoulder.

"Yeah?"

"You wanna be my girl?"

"Yeah," she said, smiling into his chest. "Yeah, I do."


End file.
